


How to Tame a Feral Sparkling: A Guide by Optimus Prime

by TheJazzMeister



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: But in reality he just needs some cuddles, Daddy Prime to the rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Prowl is being a little menace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJazzMeister/pseuds/TheJazzMeister
Summary: They all know the Autobot SIC. Calm, collected, some even say emotionless and cold sparked. Many have wondered at what sort of upbringing he had. Had he always been that way or had his tactical processor been what created the mech as they knew him? How did the upper command deal with such a mech?It turns out they don’t have any idea of what the mech that leads them in battle is truly like, but that’s alright. Prowl prefers it that way.
Comments: 118
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to comment! Thanks for reading!

Optimus huffed as he pulled a polishing cloth out of his subspace. The heat was thick and muggy now that the rains had ended for the season. Condensation clung to his frame, dripping down his helm and lower back. Using the cloth, he wiped his faceplates down and looked over his team.

Ironhide stood at the front of the group with Sunstreaker, watching for Sideswipe’s return from scouting ahead. Ratchet was back at the cart, sorting through their rations and checking over his medical supplies. Again.

Their team was small, but efficient. They had to travel under the radar for this mission. Rumors and intel reported Decepticon activity in the wildlands east of Praxus. Shockwave supposedly had a lab set up somewhere deep in the woods. What he was doing was unknown, but mecha had been disappearing from the slums to the temples and Optimus intended to find out why. And so, Optimus had taken his best mechs and set out to find the place.

The minotoron he was riding huffed and he reached down to pat its thick neck. The creature was huge, it needed to be to carry a mech of his size. It turned to nuzzle at is servo but was disappointed to find it empty of treats. The other two minotorons hooked up to the cart pawed at the ground restlessly. Optimus checked his chronometer. Sideswipe was taking a long time.

Just as he had been preparing to comm the missing mech, Sideswipe’s distinct red armor appeared through the trees, weaving towards them. Sunstreaker visibly relaxed. Optimus slid off his mount and approached the others.

“Did you find anything, Sideswipe?” he asked.

“Possibly, Sir,” Sideswipe said, jabbing a thumb in the direction behind him, “I found a camp about a klik ahead. It was abandoned, but they were there recently. Pretty sure it wasn’t ‘Bots.”

Optimus nodded, “Good work, Sideswipe. We’ll go check it out. Autobots, move out!” 

  
  


*****

  
  


The camp had indeed been recently occupied. How recently was anyone's guess, but the fire pit was still warm. Optimus glanced at the small stack of empty energon cubes left behind and grimaced. Was it truly so hard to simply disperse the cube fields when finished eating?

“Hey, Prime! Check it out!” Ironhide called.

Optimus turned to see Ironhide hold up a datapad. He took it and glanced over it. “A list of supplies?” he asked.

“No, look at the next slide.”

Optimus did as requested, optics widening in surprise at what looked to be…

“Is this a sparkling’s drawing?” he said.

The pad was snatched out of his servos by Sideswipe.

“Ha! It really does look like a sparkling drew this! These Cons even suck at art! Hey, Sunny! Check this out!” the young mech shouted.

Ironhide rolled his optics as he turned to his leader. “We should tail these mecha. They might be-”

“Heading to Shockwave’s lab. I agree. Sideswipe, do you have an idea of which way they headed?”

Sideswipe jumped slightly from where he and his brother had been going through the datapad and turned to face Optimus.

“I could find out for you, Sir!” he said, “We could be caught up to them by morning!”

Optimus nodded, and together they set off moving as quietly as possible as they followed the Cons’ trail. Eventually, Optimus called a stop to their march. They’d all be walking for too long and were all feeling the strain of it. Cybertron’s sun had set joors ago.

His team set up their portable berths quickly and Optimus found himself having to restrain himself from tossing his own cube back like the twins. He’d been hungrier than he’d thought. They all settled fairly quickly, with Ironhide taking the first watch. They each would only get a few joors recharge before they would need to be up again to catch up to those Cons’. Optimus was in recharge as soon as the back of his helm hit the berth padding his own soft snores no competition for Ratchet’s rattling engine.

  
  


*****

  
  


A piercing scream of pure fury had Optimus jolting from his recharge. Ratchet woke with his own shout of surprise beside him and Optimus turned to see the twins already on their pedes, blades out. Once his recharge addled processor finally caught up with the rest of him, he joined them, blaster out of subspace and thrumming as he powered it up.

Another scream sounded from behind the cart, joined this time by Ironhide’s own pained shout. Sprinting to the source of the noise, he nearly tripped when a small being darted around the corner of the cart, slamming into his legs. The being grunted as he was slammed back, falling to the ground and flailing. Then the twins were on him, using their size to wrestle the mech onto the ground, though it was not an easily won fight.

Claws flung out and raked across Sideswipe’s audial, bringing a howl of rage from the mech. Optimus leaned down to assist, but Ironhide beat him to it, his own arm gushing energon from a long set of scrapes running down it. Together, the three mecha finally overpowered the smaller one, flipping him over and cuffing his servos behind his back. The mech let out a high- pitched howl of fury which had Optimus wincing. Perhaps it wasn’t a mech, but a femme?

Pulling the still thrashing being up by their upper arms and turning them to face Optimus, Sideswipe smiled in victory as he looked towards the Prime.

“Got him, Sir! What should we do with this little piece of Con slag?” he asked.

Optimus glared down at the mech in the darkness, looking into the wild red optics.

“Bring him into the light. I want to see this mech’s face,” he ordered, moving towards the fire.

The twins were all too happy to see who had been so bold as to attack them, dragging the cuffed mech forward and avoiding kicks sent towards their shins.

Optimus shifted his faceplates into a firm scowl. While he didn’t often like to use intimidation tactics, he could not ignore an attack set out against recharging mecha. _His_ mecha.

Then, he got his first good look at their attacker and he felt his face go slack in shock. 

What he assumed had been a minibot or cassette had turned out not to be the case. Instead, he looked into the glaring face of a Praxian mechling who couldn’t be over forty vorn old.

His shock caught the attention of the rest of his team and then they were all staring at the sparkling. The twins, while not loosening their holds, did ease him into a slightly less painful position before Sideswipe said, “Who the frag are you?”

Optimus stepped forward, catching the sparkling's chin in his servo and tilting his face up to get a better look at him.

“Where did you come from, little one?” he asked gently, taking in the terror filled optics he had before mistaken as being angry.

The only answer he received was the sparkling sinking his pointed dente into his servo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter two! I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for your comments and kudos!

Frag, frag, frag, frag, fragity,  _ frag _ . Optimus stared at his ruined pointer digit, pain throbbing up from the appendage. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It’s what he deserved for putting his servo up near the little one’s face after seeing what’d had happened to Ironhide and Sideswipe. But still… Ouch.

As Ratchet tended to his digit, Optimus took a moment to look the youngling over. They’d found a small collapsible stool and made the little one sit there, servos still firmly cuffed behind his back and making his arms push his too large for his frame doorwings up at an awkward angle. Optimus had wanted to uncuff him as soon as they’d realized they were dealing with a child, but Ironhide had put that idea down firmly, holding up his non responsive servo as a reminder to the Prime. The youngling had cut a major sensory line when he’d clawed Ironhide’s arm, making the mech lose feeling in three of his digits. Optimus had conceded to leaving the little one cuffed until he calmed down a bit.

Now, it seemed they were at a standstill. The mechling hadn’t said a word yet, leaving Optimus and himself having a sort of staring contest. The little one was mainly brown, with hints of black splashed across his body. The only true pop of color was his chevron, which was a dull red, matching his glaring optics. Wickedly sharp dente peeked out from beneath his lips, which were pulled back in a small snarl. Optimus knew his claws matched his dente. It had been a while since Optimus had seen a Praxian, let alone a young Praxian, but the little one looked too thin to be healthy. The stool he was seated on was meant for adult mecha, so his legs hung freely, but he didn’t kick them back and forth as was the norm for those his age. The youngling was unnaturally still, in fact.

Finally, Optimus leaned forward and said, “Hello there, little mech. Where did you come from? Are you lost? Do you need help?”

The only response he recieved was a better look at those dente as the little one’s face contorted further.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. 

Silence. Optimus sighed.

“Listen, sparkling. You need to tell me-”

“I’m not a sparkling!” the little one said. Behind him, Sideswipe snorted.

Optimus leaned back and settled in. This was going to take a while. 

“Very well. Do you have a designation I could use instead?” he asked.

The youngling paused for a moment, obviously weighing the pros and cons of speaking. Finally, he made his decision.

“Prowl,” he said.

“Ok, Prowl. Let’s start with how you ended up here,” Optimus said.

*****

“Prime, you can’t be  _ serious _ ,” Ironhide hissed at him. Beside him, the twins nodded in agreement. 

“He’s too young to be left out here alone. He’ll get himself killed if not by wildlife then the elements, or just starve. He doesn’t look far from that anyway!”

He was thankful for his mask hiding his smirk of victory as Ironhide’s optics cut to the youngling guiltily. They’d manage to wrestle his age out of him after calling him a sparkling one too many times. Forty three vorns old. Technically an official youngling, but just barely. Far too young to be left unsupervised for any reason. Which was why Optimus had left him with the twins while he, Ironhide, and Ratchet discussed what to do next.

Optimus knew his team. The twins, while young and rash, did possess sparks despite the rumors. They’d not bring harm to the little one even if they didn’t particularly care what happened to him. Ratchet had been watching the little one carefully, and Optimus suspected he was trying to figure out how to scan the little one without his knowledge, if he hadn’t already that was. And Ironhide… Optimus himself had been raised by Ironhide and he knew the old warrior would never leave the little one no matter how much he complained. 

“And let’s not forget what he told us he’s trying to get away from,” Optimus stressed. 

“You and I both know he could have been fed that story by his handlers. He’s a little ‘Con in the making Prime,” Ironhide shot back.

Ratchet hummed, cutting in, “Unlikely. His frame is proof enough of his story. Whoever he was with last treated him badly. He hides it well but he moves too stiffly to not be in a fair amount of pain. Not to mention he’s way too small for his age and frame type.”

“Alright.  _ Fine _ ,” Ironhide cut in, “But we can’t jus’ forget the mission. What about Shockwave’s lab? How’re we supposed to find it with a youngling runnin’ around underpede?”

“We won’t,” Optimus said, “This shifts our priorities. We need to move out of the woods and get him somewhere safe.”

Ironhide’s face tinted blue and Optimus braced for the coming storm.

“What!?” Ironhide shouted, missing how both the twins and the youngling’s helms swung to look at him, “Prime, if we do that the ‘Cons’ll know we where here! We’ll miss our chance at finding-”

“I am well aware of the consequences, Ironhide,” Optimus hissed lowly, “But I will not risk that youngling being killed in a firefight or allow him to fall back into the servos of those who had him before. We will just have to deal with any fallout as best we can. End of discussion.”

“I don’t wish harm on the little one either, Prime, but you’ve got to admit, something about this stinks. This ain’t the first time a ‘Con has used a youngling to spy on us,” Ironhide said.

“I am well aware of that possibility, but we can’t chance it if he’s not lying. We will simply have to be extra vigilant. Optics will stay on him at all times, without the youngling realizing it if at all possible. We want him to think we trust his word no matter what.”

Ironhide huffed, but finally nodded his consent. He knew just how stubborn Optimus was when dealing with the safety of younglings. 

“Fine,” he said, “But don’t expect me to get all cuddly. Little piece of slag is near feral…”

“Of course not, Ironhide,” Optimus said as they began to move back to the twins. 

Once close enough, Optimus addressed Prowl.

“Very well, youngling,” he said, ignoring the glare Prowl gave him for calling him a youngling, “I cannot allow you to be placed in harms way by letting you be found by your pervious minders. We will be going out of these woods and they can be dangerous. We need you to do as we say to ensure your safety, is that understood?”

The youngling didn’t look pleased, but nodded anyways. Optimus wasn’t fully convinced, but he’d take it for now. 

Behind him, he heard Ironhide let out an annoyed ‘humph’. He could almost picture the older mech’s arms crossed and the scowl on his face before Ironhide shouldered past him to come up to the youngling.

Jabbing a pointed digit in Prowl’s face, he leaned down and said, “And don’t you even think of trying to get yourself into trouble, youngin’. I’ll have you over mah knee for the aft tanning of your life in an instant if you put my mecha in unnecessary danger, ya here?”

Prowl mearly quirked an unimpressed brow and lifted his servo to make a vulgar gesture.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Woo! So, here we get to see a bit of what’s going on in Prowl’s head. I look forward to your comments! Hope you all enjoy!

Prowl watched in silence as the adult mecha prepared to move out, marveling at his luck. He hadn’t thought the Autobot leader would allow him to join them, let alone do so without heavily restraining him. He’d expected… Well, he honestly didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. 

He took them each in, a slight scowl on his faceplates. His back ached and his left doorwing hung lower than the other. His sire had ensured he’d been suitably ‘prepared’ for his first meeting with the Autobots. The medic approached him and he felt another passive scan wash over him and couldn’t contain a small growl. The medic didn’t seem fazed and crouched in front of him.

“Hello, little one,” he said, “That wing looks like it hurts. The socket is partially disconnected. We can’t move out until I get that back in place.”

“Why?” Prowl demanded hotly. He didn’t want this old mech groping at his wings.

“Neither Optimus nor myself will allow you to damage yourself further by moving through this forest injured. Don’t be scared. All I’ve got to do is pop it back in. It won’t take a klik. Now hold still,” the medic said as he tried to move around behind him. Prowl turned with him, not allowing him access to his back.

“I’m not scared of you,” Prowl said, trying desperately to keep his field in tight. He wasn’t just scared. He was terrified. But if he let them know that they’d pick him apart in no time. The medic gave him a stern look.

“Do I need to have the twins hold you still so I can do this?” he asked.

Prowl’s optics darted to where the two similar looking mecha stood a few paces off. They looked more than happy to hold him down. He didn’t like them. They were too similar. He looked back to the medic.

“I’m fine. I don’t want-”

A sharp pain laced up his back up into his neck, his breath pushing out from his vents the only thing keeping him from crying out. It was over in an instant. Whipping around, he stared furiously up into the smirking face of the all red mech. Ironhide, the Autobot leader had said his designation was. 

“There ya go Ratch’. Fixed it for ya!” he laughed before glancing down at Prowl, “That’s fer jackin’ up mah servo, little scraplet.”

“That hurt you rusted piece of slag!” Prowl snarled, servos clenching in fury. Tears stung his optics that he refused to let drop. He watched Ironhide’s optics go wide.

“Where’d you learn that kinda language, sparklet!?” Ironhide demanded.

Before he could respond, the medic placed his servos on his shoulders and tugged him back, startling him. 

“You idiot!” the medic snarled, “You can’t just go doing slag like that without any warning! What if he’d pulled away!? You could have made it worse!”

“He was bein’ willful! We don’t have time to coddle him. Did ya forget the Cons still running around!?” Ironhide demanded.

“No! I didn't forget, but don’t you presume you know how to treat my patients better than me! You owe him an apology!” the medic said.

Prowl glanced around before realizing that the medic was referring to him. He waited for Ironhide to rage at the medic for even daring to suggest he apologize for hurting the likes of someone like him. He hoped that anger didn’t come down on his helm, but the medic had a firm grip on him, keeping him between them during their stare off.

After a moment, Ironhide seemed to deflate. Locking optics with Prowl, he knelt down and Prowl fought to keep from squirming. His sire often knelt down like this to better hold him still when boxing his audials. Subconsciously, he pressed back against the medic’s legs. 

Instead of the hard clap of Ironhide’s servo coming down on his audial, he heard the mech sigh. 

“I’m sorry, sparklet. I shouldn’t have done that, but Ratchet was right. Ya can’t go runnin’ around with a loose doorwing. Next time, just let him help ya and we won’t have any issues, clear?” Ironhide said.

Prowl glared at him in silence. 

Ironhide smirked and nodded, “Fair enough. I deserve that. But we do need to head out. Optimus wants us moving before the Cons who set up that camp have a chance at finding us.”

He got back up and turned to walk back to his leader. Master? Prowl wasn’t certain what the mechs beneath the Prime were to him. The old mech certainly didn’t speak to the Prime with much respect. Had Prowl been so familiar with any of the adults in his life as Ironhide was with the Prime he would have been beaten. 

Angrily shrugging off Ratchet’s servos from his shoulders he stalked after them as they began to walk. He was irritated with himself for showing such vulnerability. He couldn’t afford that, not now. 

*****

Walking between the twins was awkward to say the least. Prowl couldn’t stop himself from glancing between the two mecha. They were different colors, but their faces were the same. Their bodies were almost the same as well! It was… unnatural.

The red one glanced down and met his optics before he was able to turn away. He smiled as Prowl ducked his helm away. 

“So, what’s it like living with Cons half bit?” the red mech asked. He was fairly certain this was the one called Sideswipe. That made the other Sunstreaker, who reached over him and shoved his brother.

“You can’t just ask him that, idiot!” Sunstreaker said. 

Prowl quickened his pace so that he wasn’t between the two as they began a shoving match. To Prowl, it looked violent, but none of the other adults seemed fazed. Was this normal? These Autobots were even more insane than his sire had first led him to believe.

He jerked in surprise as a gentle but large servo wrapped around his scruff bar, lifting him up into the air. His pedes gave an involuntary kick and he cringed, but he was merely placed on his aft next to the Prime on the driver's seat of the cart, putting him in uncomfortably close proximity to the mech. He kept his optics down, knowing better than to look the mech in the face. That was just asking for a whipping. Instead, he watched him with the sensors in his doorwings.

The Prime turned to him and smiled, “You don’t have to worry about those two. They often do this. Don’t worry, Ironhide will take care of them.”

Prowl turned as two loud clangs rang out, seeing the twins each rubbing at the backs of their helms. Both winced as Ironhide began to berate them. 

“They’re not normally so… much. They didn’t frighten you did they?” Optimus asked.

Prowl felt his face twist at the thought. They had, but he couldn’t let the Prime know that. This was his one chance and he couldn’t blow it. He had to be strong or the Autobots would decide he wasn’t worth keeping. That couldn’t happen. 

The Prime chuckled beside him.

“All right, little one. Fair enough. Would you like something to eat?” he asked, lowering an energon cube in front of his face. He felt oral lubricants fill his mouth at the sight. Cautiously, he took the offered cube. Taking the smallest sip, he allowed his chemoreceptors to work at checking for any drugs. Once he received the all clear, he took a larger sip, enjoying the taste. They’d given him a cube after fixing his wing, and he wasn’t sure why he was being allowed another, but he wouldn’t refuse the treat. The Prime turned back to focus on steering and Prowl relaxed a bit more once no longer the subject of his attention. 

Allowing the rocking of the cart to sooth him, he drank his cube in silence, watching the other adults. He just had to keep playing his role. If he could manage that, he’d make it out of this alive. He refused to fail...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Woo! I hope you all enjoy! I look forward to your comments and appreciate each of them! Till next time!

Prowl trudged along behind Ironhide moodily, his pedes aching in a way they never had before in his short life. Since Prowl had found them thad been moving for four orns. Every orn, they rose before the sun and didn’t stop walking until well after it had set. The second orn had brought rains, which had slowed their progress a fair bit, but that only had them pushing harder in the following orns. The adult mecha were used to such stretches of marching, but Prowl had found the walk nothing short of torturous. 

His face twisted into a deep scowl as his pede sunk into mud, tripping him and making him fall to his servos and knees. Shuddering in disgust as his servos sunk in as well, filth seeping into his joints, his mood darkened even further as one of the twins snorted out a laugh behind him. 

“Hold up!” Ironhide called, turning towards Prowl, “We got one down back here!”

Dropping to his knee, he wrapped a servo around Prowl’s upper arm and tugged him back up. Prowl couldn’t stop his flinch as the older mech grabbed his muddy servos, turning them palm side up.

“Are you alright?” he asked, “Ya didn’t fall on anythin’ sharp did ya?”

Nerves and his aching pedes had him forgetting his fear far sooner than he would have dared with his sire and he slapped Ironhide’s servos away with a snarl. He actually had nicked his servo, and Ratchet had proven he would repair any injury no matter how insignificant. Prowl was coming to be spoiled by the lack of injuries and the never ending rust stick Ratchet seemed to have. 

  
  


“I’m not a sparkling!” he shouted, stomping towards the cart in a huff. 

Or at least he would have gone to the cart, had his pede not caught on a hidden branch. Prowl went down hard, his entire front slamming into mud completely, stunning him for a moment. 

Uproarious laughter followed as he struggled to push himself up, spitting filth from his mouth. Blinking, he looked up to see Optimus and Ratchet in front of him, both looking down at him with concern in their optics. Behind him, Ironhide scolded the twins, who looked to be anything but sorry for laughing. Anger boiled in his lines, and he felt his faceplate flame in mortification. 

Suddenly, an idea formed. It was a terrible idea, one that would most definitely end in his being punished. But they were  _ laughing _ at him. Optimus’s gentle servos wrapped around his waist, pulling him up and swiping mud away from his face.

“It’s alright, little one,” Optimus said softly, “There’s a stream a short ways away and we’ll clean you up there.”

“Yeah, we’ll just dunk him in and he’ll be good to go!” Sideswipe shouted. 

That decided it.

Stooping down, Prowl swept his servos through the mud, grabbing as large a fistful as he could manage before lobbing it into Sideswipe’s laughing face.

Silence echoed through the woods around him as everyone fell still in shock. Prowl smiled in satisfaction before what he had just done settled in, then fear took over. Tucking his wings in, he waited for the punishment to begin. It would likely be Ironhide to step forward and turn him around for an aft tanning, which he’d already earned two of in the past orns for backtalking and biting. 

None of that came though, instead Sideswipe’s turned his gobsmacked expression on his brother who broke the silence with another laugh, this time pointing towards him. 

“Ha!” Sunstreaker crowed, “You should see your face! That kid’s got good aim!”

And then suddenly they were all exploding into movement. Sideswipe reached down to take his own servofull of mud and slapped it to Sunstreaker’s chassis, who’s laughter turned to a howl of rage. The two began to wrestle, flinging mud everywhere. Optimus snatched Prowl up, lifting him high up from the two as he backed away from them quickly. Ratchet, who had been further behind to start with began to chuckle. Ironhide, who hadn’t been so quick, shouted as mud was flung up on his side.

Suddenly, everyone was laughing and Prowl could only stare in shock from his place pressed up against Optimus’s chassis. They weren’t laughing at him anymore, but they also weren’t angry. He… didn’t know how to react. His sire would have already been well into beating him, but these mecha were…  _ playing _ ?

He hung there, in the Prime’s arms, simply watching until the twins finally tired themselves out, both now more covered in mud than even he was. Finally, Optimus lowered him to stand next to him and placed his servos on his hips.

“Well, if you’re all finished, I think it’s time we went and found that stream. We all need a good scrub down anyways.”

And so, they made their way towards the stream, following the sound of the rushing liquid. Before long, they stood soaking their pedes and Prowl felt his wings shiver in pleasure at the sensation of the muck washing away from beneath his plating. The twins, as usual, ruined the moment by whooping loudly and jumping helm first into the water, splashing Prowl and Optimus. 

A servo touched his back between his wings, startling him, but it was only Optimus. He allowed himself to be guided further into the stream before Optimus simply picked him up and carried him until they were almost in the middle of the water. Optimus chose a small rock that jutted out just above the surface to sit on, placing Prowl in his lap. 

Prowl didn’t even have a moment to feel uncomfortable before Optimus was rubbing a cool soaked cloth across his forehelm. For the first time in his function, he allowed himself to shut off his optics and simply enjoy the sensation of gentle servos cleaning him. Mostly that was because no one had ever bothered to clean him in the first place, but he chose to ignore that for the moment. 

Optimus worked the cloth over him in firm little circles, even pulling out a small brush to get in between the area where his playing overlapped and joints. He was nearly in recharge by the time Optimus was finished and he flailed his arms in a brief panic when Optimus lifted him back up and carried him back to the others.

Optimus chuckled and murmured a soft, “Apologies, little one. We’re going to make camp for the night here. You may go back into recharge if you like.”

Prowl nodded, but the peace was shattered when Sideswipe appeared in front of them suddenly. He’d cleaned himself as well and his face was one of shock.

“Holy slag!” he shouted, “He’s not black and brown! He’s black and  _ white _ !”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And following the fluff comes your daily dose of angst. Hope you all enjoy! I look forward to your comments as always! Till next time!

Prowl lay quietly underneath the thin blanket the Autobots had found for him some few orns ago. Being a youngling, his frame was not yet stable enough to regulate his temperature the way adult mecha could, though many Cybertronians still recharged with one after their final upgrades for comfort. 

Optimus, Ratchet, and the twins were all well into recharge, as he was supposed to be as well. But now was not the time to be recharging. He shut his optics, feigning recharge as Ironhide strolled a short way away from the group. He watched with his wing sensors as the mech looked them over before continuing on to sit away from them, looking into the forest. Most importantly, he was looking away from the recharging group. 

Onlining his optics once again, he slid from beneath the blanket as quietly as he could, keeping his optics trained on Ironhide. The mech was none the wiser though, never glancing back as he cleaned his weapon. 

Prowl stayed low as he moved away from the group, slipping in the opposite direction of where Ironhide sat. Once out of sight, he straightened and walked just a bit further. He didn’t need to go very far, especially not so far he became lost. He hated the dark. 

A stick snapped and he froze, glancing around once more to be sure he was alone. Seeing no one, he quickly opened a small compartment on his left hip plate. Withdrawing one of the small trackers, he pressed the buttons on it, activating it. It beeped cheerfully before a small light began to blink and he placed it down at the base of one of the copper trees. 

That had been the last tracker. He’d placed one every night since he’d allowed the Autobots to ‘find’ him, but there was still no sign of his sire’s group. Surely his sire hadn’t left him… Shaking himself to rid himself of the ridiculous notion. His sire would be proud of him, he was sure of it. 

He turned, exhaustion making him feel sluggish. Now he could let himself recharge for what little was left of the night. Primus but how did Optimus and Ratchet function when they were constantly having ‘late night talks’? He knew he heard his designation a few times while waiting for them to go into recharge, but he couldn’t imagine what made him so special. He decided he was too tired to care at the moment and slipped around the tree to begin making his way back towards the Autobots camp. 

Instead, he smacked face first into Ironhide’s thick legs. Shock had him stumbling back and falling onto his aft. Looking up into Ironhide’s scowling face, fear pulsed in his spark. That was a face that spelled pain to come…

“And just what did ya think you were doing out here away from camp?!” Ironhide demanded. 

Prowl scrambled for an answer, hyper aware of the tracker  _ right beside _ them.

“I- I um… I thought I heard something and came to look!” Prowl said. He flinched when Ironhide thrust his servo down at him, but instead of a fist or open palm delivering a smack he was simply lifted by his scruff bar and began walking back to their camp. 

Prowl felt dread creep up into his tank as four sets of tired optics turned on him as Ironhide brought him back into their camp. The twins both gave him a glare but Optimus looked on with concerned disappointment.

“Says he was looking into a sound he heard,” Ironhide said, “I don’t believe it.”

Prowl cringed as Optimus stepped forward and leaned down to his level. He tried to look away, but the Prime caught his chin and tugged his face up so that he could look nowhere but into his optics. 

“Young mech, I will not have you lying to us. Going out there alone was dangerous. An animal could have dragged you off without us ever knowing until it was too late. Now I suggest you tell us the truth.”

Prowl squirmed and tried to look away, guilt eating at him. Optimus didn’t allow him to look away however, giving his chin a little shake.

“ _ Now _ , youngling!”

Panic took over as the idea filtered through his processor of the Prime going and looking around where he’d been found. So, he went with the one thing that usually worked for him when the Autobots began to ask uncomfortable questions. Aggression. 

Optimus cried out as Prowl swiped his claws across his nasal ridge, just above his mask. Stumbling back and clutching his face, Prowl was relieved that the mech was finally out of his personal space. 

He regretted his choice a second later when he remembered that Ironhide was still holding him. He flailed as Ironhide jerked him back and giving him a hard shake. 

“You little punk! The frag is wrong with you?! I’ve just about had it with yer attitude!” Ironhide shouted. 

But Optimus was already moving back towards them, having waved Ratchet off. 

“No, Ironhide. We’ve discussed this. I knew better than to intimidate him,” Optimus said, but Ironhide wasn’t listening, at least not completely.

“Prime, I’ve tried to be patient with this little scraplet, but if  _ I _ don’t get a break from him I’m gonna snap and do something I’ll regret.”

Optimus had no response to that and Prowl was turned to dangle in front of Ironhide’s scowling face. 

“I think it’s high time you had a time out, younglin’,” Ironhide snarled.

Turning, he walked with Prowl over to their cart, where Sunstreaker had emptied out a small crate. 

“Here ya go, Hide! He can chill in here for a bit!” Sunstreaker looked almost cheerful.

Then Prowl understood what was coming. They were going to lock him in the crate. 

Just. 

Like.

Sire.

Prowl was thrust back in time, his processor bringing up every instance of his sire putting him in the box. The darkness. The lack of air for him to vent. The too tight walls that always felt like they were closing in on him no matter how hard he pushed at them. He couldn’t go in there. He  _ couldn’t _ . 

Thrashing as hard as he could, he reached up and sunk his claws into Ironhide’s arm. He let loose a shrill scream of panic when the mech simply snarled and continued forward. The box was too small. He wouldn’t fit in there. 

“Quit yer squirmin’, brat! You’re gonna have some quiet time before I pop a fuse,” Ironhide said.

“Hide, I think we should wait a moment. This seems a bit extreme,” Optimus said. 

Then they were there and Ironhide was lowering him down. Tears began to leak from his optics as he kicked desperately. Suddenly, it was all too much.

“I’m sorry!” he wailed, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! I’ll be a good mech! I’ll behave! Please don’t put me in the dark! Please Sire! I’m  _ sorry _ !”

He released Ironhide’s wrist from his grip, bringing his servos up to cover his face as he curled up and sobbed. He could do nothing else. They were bigger than him, just like his sire and his friends were. They’d overpower him one way or another and if he fought he’d just get more punishment. He was going to be put in the dark.

Ironhide was still for a moment, but Prowl was too upset to notice. He shook hard enough for his plating to rattle in Ironhide’s grip. 

Then, large arms wrapped around him and he was pressed into Optimus’ chassis. 

“It’s alright, little one. Shh. No one will be putting you in the crate. Calm yourself. I think everyone is just a bit tired.”

Ironhide managed to somehow look guilty and sad at the same time and Prowl wasn’t sure if he hated it or not. Prowl was lowered to sit in the Prime’s lap and he cuddled close, for once not even bothering to try to seem like he didn’t want to be there. The few times Optimus had managed to get him to sit still in his lap were special to Prowl. The mech had a very pleasant lap to sit in and already Prowl felt himself begin to calm down. 

The Prime wouldn’t put him in the dark. 

He wasn’t sure how long Optimus held him, murmuring reassurances before he finally was able to think straight. 

“I’m sorry, Prime,” he whimpered. Optimus stroked his back between his wings gently. 

“It’s alright, little mech. You don’t have to be afraid of us. We won’t hurt you. There’s nothing you could do to make us wish you pain,” Optimus said.

Guilt flooded Prowl before he finally came to a decision. Looking up into Optimus’ optics he shook his helm.

“No, Prime. You don’t understand. I- I’ve been lying to you. To all of you,” he said.

“What do you mean, Prowl? What’s going on?” The other Autobots stepped in to hear him better and Prowl huddled closer to the Prime. The Prime wouldn’t hurt him. He would help.

As he opened his mouth to explain, the sound of blasters powering up all around their camp rang through the air. 

“How cute. If I’d known you were getting this close to the Autobots, I’d have gotten here a bit sooner, mechling,” a voice straight from Prowl’s nightmares rang out. All optics turned on the large Praxian stepping out of the darkness, acid pellet rifle held steady. The other Decepticons from his team followed suit, surrounding them. Optimus clutched him tighter, trying to protect him, but there’d be no protection for Prowl. Not anymore. 

His sire had finally come to collect him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure some of you saw it coming, but here we meet Prowl’s sire! I hope you enjoy! I look forward to your comments as always and wish you all the best!

Optimus did his best to hide his anger. Ironhide had pointed out the dangers of them taking in an unknown youngling, but he’d allowed his emotions to rule over common sense. He’d let Prowl’s little sob story twist his spark and had taken the little one in. He felt like a fool as he watched Prowl approach the leader of the Decepticon team and allow his helm to be stroked. Beside him, servos tied behind their backs the same as his were, one of the twins growled. This drew the leader's attention and he made his way towards them, steering Prowl along by the younglings shoulders. 

“My son is quite the performer, isn’t he, Optimus Prime?” the mech said, “Though to be fair, it wasn’t very hard. It’s well known that you’re a soft touch for sparklings.”

Prowl made a face at the remark, though Optimus noticed there was no shouted denial of the statement. 

“But where are my manners?” the mech said, “You’ll have to forgive me I’m not used to being in the presence of what amounts to royalty.”

“I’m no more royalty than you are,” Optimus said.

The mech continued on as though he hadn’t spoken, “My designation is Barricade. You already know my son, Prowl.”

“And what are your plans for myself and my team, Decepticon Barricade? I take it Megatron isn’t far?”

Barricade leaned down and murmured something into Prowl’s audial, who nodded and turned to leave, refusing to meet Optimus’ gaze. Barricade smiled, reaching out to give Prowl’s aft a little pat and chuckling at the way the little one jumped and moved quicker. 

“No, Prime,” Barricade said lowly, “Lord Megaron has different plans for you. You see, we know you’re looking for Shockwave’s lab and I, being the generous mech that I am, well I’m going to take you and your team to him. Do you know what else?”

Optimus refused to play the mech’s game, simply glaring and waiting for a response. Barricade simply smiled. 

“Fine. I’ll just tell you. You and your team are going to ride with us to Shockwave’s lab. You’re not going to try anything either. You will be the model prisoners.”

“And why would we do that?” Optimus asked. Barricade placed a servo on his shoulder like he was an old friend, looking them over with a smile that seemed almost friendly. 

“Because if you so much as  _ think _ about escape, well… I’d hate for something bad to happen to little Prowl.”

For a moment, Optimus didn’t comprehend. Ratchet realized before any of them did.

“You sick piece of slag,” Ratchet hissed, “He’s your son. You think we’ll believe you’d hurt your own son to get us to behave?”

Barricade leveled an unimpressed look at the medic, “He’s a tool, doctor,” turning to glance behind himself at Prowl helping the Decepticons to unload their cart, “There are many ways to make someone suffer without offlining or even truly injuring them. You of all mecha know that, don’t you?”

Ratchet fell silent beside him. They all knew it was true. 

“I thought so. Now then, all of you, get up into the back of your cart there. We’re going to go for a little ride…”

And with that, Barricade stood, calling for his mecha to prepare to move out. He cast Optimus and his team an expectant look. Optimus glanced behind himself to see how the others might react, but Ironhide was already rising to his pedes, glaring hatefully at Barricade. Optimus had never felt such pride in his mecha as they all rose up and made their way silently to the cart. Despite their anger and disappointment with Prowl, they still wished to protect him. 

Crammed together on the cart, they watched as the Decepticons ransacked their supplies and belongings, taking what they wished and destroying the rest. Then, Barricade was ordering they leave and Optimus watched as Prowl approached his sire. The youngling was the picture of submission, wings down and helm bowed, with his servos clasped in front of him. 

It was strange to see Prowl in such a light. Optimus and his team had grown accustomed to the constant glares, shouting, and clawing. Over the orns they had been traveling together, Optimus had grown to believe they were making progress with Prowl. The little one would let Optimus hold him, or Ironhide to stroke his back. Pits, he’d even begun to allow the twins playful tweaking of his wings without  _ too _ much complaint. They had all secretly discussed his fire, admired it even.

The youngling before them now was a polar opposite and despite everything, Optimus knew that while he may have tricked them, Prowl’s story was not all lies. They all had seen the scars across his back. His dented and bruised protoform. The way he’d flinch at sudden noises or if someone managed to sneak up on him when his back was turned. That wasn’t even touching on his reaction to the idea of being placed in a box. 

Prowl was terrified of the dark. When he recharged he always chose the spot closest to the fire. The few nights they’d tried to push on past the sunset Optimus remembered the way Prowl would jerk and watch the shadows like a monster was going to come out at them in the flash of an optic. 

“Sire?” Prowl asked softly, breaking Optimus from his thoughts, “Are we going to find Carrier now?”

Barricade came to stop in front of him, looking confused, “What did you say, scraplet?”

“You… you said…” Prowl seemed to deflate where he stood, optics darting towards the Autobots, “You said that if I helped you capture the Autobots you’d let me go back to live with Carrier again. Is that where we’re going now? To find Carrier?”

Prowl’s hopeful look began to slide as Barricade threw his helm back and laughed. Reaching down and lifting the youngling up by his scruff bar, he gestured to one of the Decepticons behind them.

“Of course, Prowl! Did you think I’d forget? I never go back on my word.”

A tentative smile came to Prowl’s face and Optimus had a sinking feeling in his tank. From their place on the cart, they couldn’t see anything but Prowl and his sire. Ironhide leaned over slightly and whispered, “Somethin’s off here…”

Optimus could only agree. He watched as Prowl once again dared a look towards them. He looked so tiny, curled up the way he was in his sire’s grasp. So helpless. 

“You won’t hurt the Autobots, right? If they’re good, you won’t give them punishment?” Prowl asked.

Optimus all but felt his spark melt a bit. Ratchet made a pained noise beside him.

“Of course, sparkling. They know what will happen if they’re bad. They’ll behave. Just like you will, right?” Barricade asked.

Prowl nodded furiously, “Of course, Sire! I’ll be good!”

“Good, because I need you to stay out of the way while we go to… your carrier,” Barricade said. 

Prowl paused, a suspicious look crossing his face suddenly and said, “Yes, Sire. I’ll stay out of the way.”

Barricade used the servo not holding Prowl up to stroke over his helm, ignoring his younglings flinch. 

“That’s a good sparkling. But just to be sure…”

It was then the mech who Barricade had gestured to came into the Autobots line of sight. None of them even had a chance to cry out in warning before Barricade had let go of Prowl, letting him drop suddenly. Prowl managed to let out a surprised squeak before he landed in the box the other mech had held out to catch him in and then the lid was slammed over him and locked shut.

Screams filtered from within the box an instant later, high pitched and terrified as Barricade took it from the mech and placed it at the edge of the cart, away from the Autobots reach. Patting the lid, he smirked at the horrified faces of his captives. 

“Remember Autobots, if any of you step out of line, I’ll bring the little scraplet out and I’ll make sure he really does have something to scream about,” he said over his youngling’s screams, “Behave yourselves now! It’s about an orns journey to Shockwave’s lab and you’ll need all the rest you can get!”

Banging his fist over the box lid, he shouted, “Shut up you little piece of slag! I don’t want to hear your whining all night!”

Prowl’s fear of the box was obviously greater than that of his sire though, because his cries grew louder if anything. 

Barricade ignored him after that, climbing up onto the front of the cart to begin them moving. Two of his Decepticons remained behind to watch the Autobots, but their focus was not on their enemies. 

They listened to Prowl’s screaming, begging, and clawing from inside his prison well into the next morning, before the youngling’s vocalizer finally shorted out from overuse. After that, only his sobs filled the air as they steadily drew closer to Shockwave’s lab and the horrors that no doubt awaited them there.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! Chapter 7 is up! I hope you enjoy! I look forward to hearing your comments!

Optimus had always encouraged his mecha to remember that no matter what, everyone had both good and bad in them. Many liked to paint the Decepticons in a horrible light, as though they were the spawn of Unicron. Many weren’t though. They were just mecha and femmes who had perhaps fallen on hard times, or been swayed with Megatron’s wish of a better world. Even Optimus had believed in Megatron once, before the mech had lost his way. 

Try as he might to believe his own advice, he couldn’t help but stew in hate and rage as he and his team sat in a cramped cell in the lower levels of Shockwave’s laboratory. They’d been brought down here and left, which worried Optimus more than anything. Shockwave wasn’t one to leave perfectly good test subjects to waste. Optimus could understand if there were orders to leave him be, but none of the others had been taken. Not that he wished for that to happen, but he wasn’t stupid. Everything so far spelt serious trouble. 

He was worried for Prowl.

Ironhide sat next to him, knees drawn up to rest his chin on them. The twins both recharged lightly from where they leaned against Ratchet’s shoulders. His weapons master turned to him, nudging his arm.

“You worried about the youngin’ too?” Ironhide asked softly. 

“It’s been orns since we were left down here. Why haven’t we seen anyone?” Optimus asked.

“Yeah, something to eat would be nice. Don’t suppose if we shout loud enough we’ll get any?” Ironhide smiled and glanced at Optimus, before his expression fell once again, “Alright. Tasteless joke. But what can we do?”

Sighing, Optimus shook his helm, “I’m not sure.”

Thinking back, Optimus shivered at the thought of what was in store for the little one.

*****

_ “Barricade. You are late,” Shockwave had stated.  _

_ Barricade had smiled up at the mech, “I think the little surprise I brought you will more than make up for my tardiness.” _

_ Stepping aside, he showed Shockwave Optimus and his team sitting in the back of the cart. Shockwave paused, taking them in for a moment before turning back to Barricade.  _

_ “While I’m certain Megatron will be pleased with the apprehension of the Prime, where is what I was promised?”  _

_ Barricade started, as if remembering something, “Oh, yeah. I’ve got the cart for you too. Here!” _

_ Close to the end of the ride to Shockwave’s, Prowl had fallen silent and Optimus had feared the little one might have passed out. His fears were unfounded however, as Barricade tipped the box on its side, dumping the youngling out. Prowl didn’t waste a second, launching out and latching his claws into his Sire’s arm. Optimus couldn’t stop himself from smiling at Barricade’s shocked face. _

_ Shouting in pain, Barricade jerked, swatting at Prowl who added his sharp little dente to the mix. The twins began to cheer Prowl on as the mechling went into a crazed thrashing fight.  _

_ Optimus leaned forward and shouted, “Run, Prowl! Get away right now!” _

_ The youngling didn’t need any other encouragement. Dropping down, he landed on his aft with a thump before he lurched forward. It would have been humorous, seeing all the Decepticons trying to catch the tiny mech, but Optimus’ spark spun wildly in its casing. Prowl sprinted to the end of the clearing around Shockwave’s lab and Optimus smiled, thankful that the little one would at least be able to escape, only for dread to grip him as he stopped.  _

_ Prowl turned to look at them, optics wild with fear and regret.  _

_ “Go kid! Get outta here! Don’t let ‘em catch ya!” Ironhide shouted. _

_ Prowl’s face twisted like he was about to cry as he turned to the forest. He would have made it had he not stopped to look back. _

_ Shockwave latched his servo harshly around Prowl’s scruff bar, clutching hard enough to bend the metal. Dragging Prowl back to the entrance of the lab, he said, “Bring the others in and lock them in the holding cells below.” _

_ Prowl struggled in his grip, sobbing in pain and fear as the Autobots were led into the lab. Barricade approached them and delivered a hard punch to Prowl’s lower back. _

_ “Little piece of slag! You nearly took my digit off!” he shouted and lifted another fist to deliver a second blow. _

_ Shockwave jerked Prowl away from the oncoming hit, “That will be quite enough. I will not have you damaging him unnecessarily. He is no longer yours and rest assured if I find him with any lasting damage I will not be pleased.” _

_ Just as Optimus was led deeper into the base, he heard Barricade’s last comment. _

_ “You won’t. Don’t get your cables in a twist. The brat’s yours. I dealt with that little slagger for 43 vorns, so where’s my payment?” _

*****

That had been over 8 orns ago if Optimus’ chrono was still working properly. 

“What sort of mech  _ sells _ his own sparkling, Ironhide? To  _ Shockwave _ of all mecha?” Optimus asked.

“He’s a monster, Prime. That’s all there is to it,” Ironhide answered. 

“Am I wrong to be so worried? He  _ did _ turn us into the Decepticons after all.”

“No, Prime. We’re all worried fer ‘im. He’s just a youngling, no matter how much he tried to puff himself up. Barricade tricked him, plain and simple. We can’t hold this against him.”

“He’s right,” Ratchet said softly. Optimus startled and turned to find the medic and twins all awake and looking at him.

  
  


“I just-” 

A scream echoed down the corridor from outside the door, drawing all their attention. They rose as one, each turning to the door as the latch was released. A mech was shoved into the already cramped room. For a moment, Optimus thought it was Barricade at the sight of the strangers' door wings, but the colors were wrong. Barricade was mainly black, this mech’s plating was brighter with youth and grey. 

“No!” the mech screamed, turning back to slam his servos against the door, “Please don’t leave me with them! They’ll offline me! Please!”

Sideswipe lifted a servo, “Hey mech, it’s okay. We won’t hurt you unless you try to hurt us, deal?”

The mech simply turned around to face them, pressing his back as against the door and tucking his wings behind himself. Sinking down to his aft to sit on the floor, the mech raised his arms to cover his face, shaking so hard his plating clinked noisily. Optimus dropped to his knee, reaching out as well and looking into terrified red optics. 

“It’s alright,” he said, taking in the mech’s body. What he had originally thought to be grey paint was actually offline paint nanites. It was a common thing in cybertronians who had just received their final frame upgrade. They would appear grey until their bodies figured out what their adult colors were, though it was rare for a new adult to be  _ completely _ grey. They usually had at least one or two of their youngling colors come along. 

“Please, don’t hurt me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the mech whimpered.

“No one is going to hurt you,” Optimus said softly.

The mech peeked between his arms up at him as Ratchet conducted a scan. 

“Primus, mech! What did Shockwave do to you?” Ratchet asked.

It was clear the mech had ended up on Shockwave’s lab table. Scars ran along his sides and criss crossed over where his spark chamber was, but the majority of them were over the mech’s helm. New welds showed the mech had obviously very recently come out of surgery. Slowly, the mech lowered his arms from his face, tears running down his cheeks.

_ Ah _ ,  _ there’s his colors,  _ Optimus thought to himself, taking in the bright… red… chevron.

“ _ Prowl _ ?!?” he asked.

His team gave him a strange look before turning back to the very clearly adult mech. The mech didn’t deny it however and the longer Optimus looked, the more obvious it was. 

“Prowl. What did they do to you? What happened, little one?” he asked, though he supposed he couldn’t exactly call Prowl ‘little’ anymore. He probably came up past Ironhide’s chassis now.

The mech curled in tighter on himself, but answered, “H- He put me in a big mech’s body.”

Ironhide blinked in surprise, “Wait a klik. You’re telling us you really  _ are _ Prowl?” 

The mech nodded, tears flooding his optics once more.

“I’m so sorry. Sire said he wouldn’t hurt you! I thought…”

He was cut off as Optimus grabbed him and tugged him into his arms, holding him tightly.

“Careful, Optimus!” Ratchet chastised, “His body just went through a major change that by all accounts should have offlined him. He can’t take a lot of rough handling!”

Prowl had gone stiff at the sudden grab, but when no pain came, he clutched his arms around Optimus as tightly as he could. 

“It’s alright, Prowl. We don’t blame you for this,” he said. Sideswipe reached out and ran a servo down Prowl’s back, avoiding the new welds.

“Yeah, kid! Your sire is a piece of slag, but you’re pretty cool,” Sideswipe said.

Optimus smiled in pride as his team all moved to comfort the youngling turned mech. 

“Optimus,” Prowl said, “They put something in my helm. It hurts so bad.”

Ratchet gently took Prowl’s wrist, plugging in and running a deeper scan on the youngling’s processor. 

“Sweet Primus,” Ratchet gasped, “He’s got a fully functioning battle processor and tactical computer installed. Prowl, how is this possible? By all means, this sort of operation should have offlined you.”

“Shockwave said because I was so young, I didn’t have any protocols in the way like a normal mech did. Optimus, please, you gotta help me! The battle computer has this program that runs when I can’t think right. I’m starting to forget things,” Prowl said.

“It makes sense,” Ratchet said, “It’s horrible, and completely ignores all ethics protocols, but it’s possible. Prowl, did your sire ever give you any educational upgrades? Access to a subspace? Anything like that?”

Prowl shook his helm.

“Primus,” Ratchet breathed, “This was fully planned. Barricade made sure to keep his processor as empty as possible for just this reason. But you say you’re starting to  _ forget _ things?”

“I can’t hardly remember what my carrier looked like. I don’t even remember if they were a mech or femme,” more tears began to fall down his cheeks. 

“Memory loss can be a side effect of this,” Ratchet said, running through Prowl’s memory banks, “Now, what about- Oh no.”

Prowl turned to him, “What?”

“This tactical processor AI is more aggressive than I thought. It’s not just a side effect. Prime, it’s completely wiping his drives. A few more cycles and he’ll not remember anything about his life before his upgrade.”

Prowl whimpered in pain, reaching up to clutch his helm. 

“Oh slag, Prime he’s getting ready to crash,” Ratchet warned, “I’ll try to slow it, but I don’t think I can fully stop it.”

“So what?” Sunstreaker asked, “He’s just gonna forget everything? Even us?”

Optimus took hold of Prowl’s face in between his servos, “Prowl, listen to me. I know you’re scared, but I need you to focus. I need you to picture a memory you hold dear in your mind. Think of your carrier. I need you to keep that one memory close. If you can do that, maybe it can help you. When things start to slip away, I need you to recall that memory.”

Prowl’s optics had started to flicker, his body lurching violently as the crash took him.

“Muh- My carrier?” Prowl stuttered.

“Don’t worry, Prowl. We’ll find a way to get you out of here. We  _ will _ help you,”

The latch to their cell unlocked once more, causing Prowl to flinch. Optimus barely held back a snarl as Barricade strode through, smirking. Prowl jerked and seized in his arms.

“Doesn’t he look great?” Barricade asked nastily, “Shockwave did a great job, huh?”

The twins lurched up, but Barricade lifted a digit, “Oh no no, Autobots. You try that and I’ll make sure sweet little Prowl gets the whipping of a lifetime. Tell me medic, do you think he’ll survive that sort of punishment so soon after his surgery?”

Glaring, Ratchet reached up to tug Sideswipe’s servo, pulling him back down. 

“I thought not. But I’m not here for you. Prowl, come!” Barricade said. 

As he spoke, Prowl’s thrashing had gone wild before he dropped still. His optics booted back up slowly at the sound of his sire’s call.

Optimus gasped as Prowl immediately responded, face blank. 

“Yes, Decepticon Barricade,” he said mechanically, coming out of the cell.

“It’s nice, isn’t it,” Barricade asked, “No more whining about wanting to go back to his carrier. Anyway, he begged me to be able to say goodbye before Megatron came to collect you. I guess I’ll be seeing you around!”

“You won’t get away with this,” Optimus snarled, “We will find you.”

“If Megatron doesn’t offlines you first. Best of luck, ‘Bots! What I do with Prowl is gonna be the least of your worries pretty soon.”

With that, he strode out of the room, the door slamming behind him and plunging them into darkness once more.

*****

Optimus’ chrono claimed three more orns passed before anything happened again. They’d received no energon and had long since run out of their rations. Optimus felt too weak to even stand, let alone fight, which was no doubt the Decepticon’s intent. Ironhide slumped against his arm, optics offline. It had been silent since they’d seen Prowl, no sounds filtering from the floors above at all.

So, when an explosion rocked the walls heavily, Optimus and his team all jerked upright.

“What was that!?” Ratchet asked.

“I’m not sure,” Optimus responded. 

A few more explosions followed, before suddenly sounds began to fill the corridor outside of their cell. The mecha rose shakily, glaring at the door. They were weak, but like slag would they just allow the Cons to take them with no fight at all. 

Surprise flew through Optimus when the door opened and mecha bearing  _ his _ brand entered. 

“Wha?” Ironhide slurred.

“Optimus, Sir! Is everybody alright? Anyone damaged?” the mech asked.

“What’s going on? How did you find us?” Ratchet asked.

“There’s no time! What’s your designation, soldier?” Optimus demanded.

The mech snapped to attention, “Kickback, Sir!”

“Kickback, I need you to listen carefully. There is a mech here, he’s got a red chevron and some of his colors might be starting to set in, but he’s just been upgraded into his final frame. He is  _ not _ to be harmed. I need you to-”

“Sir! I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s no one else here!” Kickback stated.

Optimus blinked.

“What?” he asked, “What do you mean? Where are the Decepticons?”

“The lab has been cleared out, Sir. We received your distress signal and came at once, but the Cons are long gone.”

“What distress signal?” Optimus asked.

“Last night we received word from a mech who called himself Prowl. He gave us your location, but there’s no one else in the holding cells. Do you know more about the informant, Sir?”

Realization crashed through him and with it as well of deep sorrow. Prowl had saved them, but at what cost to his own life?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live!!! I’m currently in the land of no WiFi so that’s made updates be slower. I’m also planning on doing nanowrimo this month to work on my book, so updates may be a bit scarce, but I’ll try to keep the chapters coming! I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to your comments as always! Till next time!

_ Prowl,  _ a voice whispered in his helm, breaking through his dreams. Prowl winced, making a face as he tried to let himself fall back into the oblivion of recharge, only to jerk as he recieved a small snap of electricity running across his frame. 

_ It is time to wake up, Prowl. You know what they’ll do if you stay in berth longer than your allotted timeframe. _

Groaning, Prowl cracked an optic shutter, the dim glow of his optic doing nothing to penetrate the blackness of the room. He knew this room like the back of his own servo, and navigating it using his wings was no trouble, but sometimes Prowl found himself irritated by his keeper not even allowing him a small lamp in his room. What did they expect him to do with a little light?

_ Encouraging you to participate in activities not related to your function will only spell trouble for you, Prowl. Do you not remember them finding your books? _

Prowl did. He sat up, rolling his shoulders and trying to ignore the twinge of pain. He hadn’t been whipped in decacycles, but his keeper had a way of making punishments memorable. He took a moment to just sit there and wake up, thinking back to his first few megacycles in his room. His keeper at the time had always looked at him like he was sad about something. He never used the whip. And on the anniversary of his first orn in the room(though Prowl couldn’t for the life of him tell why the mech felt it important) he had gifted Prowl with a datapad containing stories for younglings. 

His stories became Prowl’s prized possession. Each night, he would read through them. They were laughably simple, but that was some of the charm in Prowl’s optics. There were four stories in total and after a while, Prowl found himself daydreaming of them. That’s how they’d found his datapad. He’d been reading it after lights out one night and a new mech who Prowl had never seen before burst into the room and snatched it away. 

Standing, Prowl moved through the dark into the corner of the room where his shower stall was. Turning it on, he gave it a moment to warm the solvent before stepping into the spray, still thinking back to his datapad.

It had been one of the few times he’d objected to anything, let alone have the audacity to fight one of his masters. The whipping he’d earned for rasing a servo to a master had nearly killed him. The keeper who’d giving it to him  _ was _ killed. He was the Decepticons head battle planner. His duty was to lead them to victory agaisnt their Autobot oppressors. He was not to indulge himself in younglings stories. 

Running his wash cloth over his arm, his mind wandered back to the lovely dream he’d been having. It was always the same. A large blue and red mech held him. He was tiny, small enough to fit in the mech’s lap. He never could see the mech’s face, but Prowl always imagined he was smiling. The mech washed him, running a rag over his wings and back before coming up to clean his face. 

Prowl was mimicking the movements of the dream fantom, running his own wash cloth in a gentle motion across his face when the voice returned.

_ Heads up, Prowl. The lights are about to come on. _

Prowl jerked in surprise when, sure enough, a moment later the light snapped on with a harsh buzz. 

“Slaggit,” he muttered, rushing to finish washing himself off. 

Once his frame was clean enough to pass a quick inspection, he slipped from beneath the spray and shut off the shower stall. Drying himself was a rushed event and he cast the camera in the corner of the ceiling an anxious glance. He was finishing drying his wings when he heard heavy pedes making their way down the hall towards his room. Folding his towel and placing it back on the rack, he flicked his wings to rid them of the last of the solvent and all but ran to his place as the door was unlocked and opened. 

His keeper looked him over with a critical optic. Prowl winced mentally, knowing the mech knew he had been rushing. Outwardly, however, he held his position firmly. Back ramrod straight, arms at his sides, and optics focused forward looking just over his keepers shoulder, Prowl waited to see what the other mech would do. 

His keeper, a mech who’d never felt it necessary to give Prowl his designation, paced slowly around his charge. He took in Prowl’s still dripping wings and gave one of them a light flick. 

“Tell me, Prowl. Are you unhappy in your station?” he asked.

“No, Master. Of course not,” Prowl responded instantly. 

“Are you infected with a virus?”

Prowl was just a moment slower in answering, surprised by the strange question, “No, Master. Nothing came up in my last medical check.”

“So you’re just being lazy, then?” his keeper’s voice took on a slightly menacing tone. One that promised punishment in the near future if he didn’t say the right thing.

“I don’t understand, Sir.”

“You are given a full  _ ten _ kliks every morning to prepare yourself for work. You are expected to have done two things done by the time I get here to give you your ornly ration. What are they, Prowl?” 

Prowl hoped for his friend to come help him in this situation, but of course there was no whispered voice echoing in his helm. He was alone. He jumped slightly when his keeper spoke again.

“What  _ are _ they, Prowl?!?”

“To be cleaned and at attention, Master,” he said softly. 

His keeper moved back into his field of vision, “So you do know. Which means you’re just being lazy and lounging around instead of doing as you’re expected, seeing as you’re still fragging  _ dripping solvent _ . Is that right?”

“No, Master. I’m sorry. I swear it won’t happen again. I simply...had a restless night of recharge and struggled to wake up properly this morning.”

His keeper leaned back, as though very interested. Prowl’s gaze locked onto the whip dangling from the mech’s side. He could practically feel it cutting across his wings already. 

“Is that so? You had a restless night’s recharge?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you know why mecha have restless recharges?”

“No, Master.”

“Too much energy. Sometimes, a mech intakes too much energon and they can’t settle themselves. Do you think that’s the issue?”

Prowl knew where this was headed, “...Perhaps, Master.”

His keeper lifted up his ornly energon ration, “Then I suppose if you’re too… restless… you can go without this for this orn. That should help you recharge better tonight, correct?”

Prowl felt his wings dip, but nodded regardless. 

His keeper cracked open the cube and took a long sip. 

“Then that fixes that. Don’t let it happen again, Prowl,” he nodded his helm towards the Prowl’s work station, “Get to work, Prowl. If your work is anything less than expected then I’ll have to come back tonight and we both know you don’t want that.”

As he spoke, he turned and began to leave the room. His whip clinked against his hip all the way out until the door slid closed behind them. Prowl turned sullenly, depressed to have lost his ornly meal, but there was nothing to do for it. Better than a whipping at least. 

Once in front of his console, he logged in and began the long task of getting the data entires transferred over from the orn before. He pushed his tactical processor harder than normal to get a good start.

_ If you push yourself too hard you will crash. Especially with not having any energon this morning, _ the voice filtered into his helm.

_ And who’s fault is that?  _ Prowl thought,  _ Why did you not warn me sooner about going over my time limit in the ‘racks, Cloak? _

The voice had been there for as long as Prowl could remember, his entire life really. All eight vorns of it. He could remember it whispering to him when he’d woken in Shockwave’s lab. He’d had a few crashes in those first few orns after he’d been brought online, but Shockwave had told him that was to be expected for a newly online mech. Especially a newly online mech with a fully functional battle processor and tactical suite. 

_ You were distracted with thoughts of your dream mech again,  _ the voice said.

Cloak, as Prowl had named it, often took over his frame in his early orns when things became too much to handle. Cloak was the AI that ran in the background of his Tactical Suite, and was intelligent enough to take over when his frame would lock up on him, or when punishments became too painful. It was Prowl’s only friend. 

_ I cannot control what I dream of, Cloak,  _ Prowl retorted. His digits flew over the keyboard, never slowing despite his internal conversation. None of his keepers had ever known that Prowl could talk with Cloak, at the AI’s request, and Prowl could see that it was a good idea vorns later. They might try to take Cloak from him if they knew the AI was as independent as it was. It wasn’t supposed to have opinions, which it had started sharing with Prowl sometime last vorn. 

His keepers would not like Cloak’s opinions and thoughts about them. Prowl was simply pleased to have more sophisticated conversations to break up the monotony of his work.

_ You know that’s not what I meant. You can’t keep your dream mech out of your helm. It’s getting dangerous,  _ Cloak said.

_ My thoughts are my own. That’s what the Decepticon movement is about. Why we’re fighting!  _ Prowl thought.

_ And when your distraction gets you more than a missed meal? More than a whipping? _

_ Shut up, Cloak. It was one mistake. _

_ Have you thought about what I mentioned the last time that you dreamed of this mech? _

Prowl swiped his data reports off the screen with more force than was strictly necessary.

_ What? That it isn’t more than just a dream? That is ridiculous and you know it. _

_ But it being a memory as opposed to a dream would explain the setting of the dream. Even you must admit that. _

_ I’ve never been to any forest. I was raised in this room. I was sparked in Shockwave’s lab. I was specifically made for this task. I’m a cold construct, no matter what you say my spark read outs show. Why would my keepers lie about any of that? _

_ I just feel that there is more to this. There are skips in my- _

_ Yes, yes,  _ Prowl snapped in his mind, manipulating the map of a battlefield on his screen,  _ skips in your memory banks from my first few orns of life. Shockwave already explained that. You had faulty programming that needed correcting. _

_ All I ask is that you stay aware and not take everything at face value. There is much still for you to learn. I don’t think you’re being told everything.  _

_ Of course not, Cloak. I’m just here to do the battle planning. What else is there for me to know? _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah! Wow! This is suuuuper late! I’m sorry for that! School and work have been insane, and this chapter is super short but I figured y’all might like a short chapter than no chapter. I hope y’all enjoy and haven’t given up on me! Till next time!

Prowl was dreaming again, though his mystery mech was nowhere to be seen in his mind’s eye. This time, he was wandering in a massive cavern, rust and rocks littering the ground around his pedes. The red and blue mech sat at the back of the cavern, a frequent visitor in his dreams. Prowl shifted in his recharge, spark warming with an emotion he couldn’t name but enjoyed. The dream mech didn’t turn to face him, but he spoke with a soft deep voice that calmed Prowl instantly, 

“I’m so happy to see you, Prowl,” the larger mech said, “Have you come to save me?”

Prowl stepped closer, confident in his walk in the same way that was described in his second favorite story,  _ The Tale of Razorwing _ . 

“I have come to save you,” Prowl said to him, “Please show me your face.”

“Are you sure I’m the one that needs saving, Prowl?” the red and blue mech asked.

Prowl stalled, “What?” 

“Wake up, Prowl,” the mech whispered. 

“Please show me your face,” Prowl begged.

_ Prowl,  _ Cloak’s voice filtered through his head,  _ Wake up! Now! _

Prowl’s optics snapped online just in time to look up and see his master raise his cable whip above his helm before it was cracked down over his hip, the tail of it wrapping around to his aft and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He cried out and threw his arms over his helm. It was all he could do, now. 

Stroke after stroke of the whip rained down across his thighs, hips, and aft and his screams filled the room. He lost count after twenty, and the punishment continued for a few moments after that before he felt his upper arm being grabbed. His master dragged him out of his berth roughly and let him collapse, tears trickling down his face as a rough servo closed around his jaw and pulled until he was looking up. 

“Just what the  _ frag  _ do you think you’re doing, Prowl?!” his master shouted, oral lubricants coming from his mouth and spraying across Prowl’s face, “I gave you a chance last orn to get your slag together and where do I find you this morning?! Lazing about in berth! Get up!”

His master grabbed his upper arms and pulled him up, shoving him towards the empty corner of the room by his desk. Panic gripped him.

“Please, Master! No!” 

“Shut up!” his master, shouted, slapping the back of his helm hard enough to leave Prowl dizzy, “You had your chance, now put your servos flat on the wall!”

Tears streamed freely down his cheeks as he obeyed. He knew better than to try an stop it at this point. It would only earn him extra punishment. His master moved behind him in the room, stripping the armor from his arms for better range of movement. Slipping his whip from the clasp on his side, he closed the door to Prowl’s quarters. 

Anyone who might have passed the door in the following thirty clicks would have heard the telltale screaming and sounds of Prowl having his plating flayed beneath his master’s whip, but none cared to come in and stop it. No one had in the past, and no one ever would.

*****

Optimus sat in his office, staring at the near mound of datapads on his desk in despair. This war had not been thought to go on for so long, yet here they were locked in combat still. And with continuous combat, came the never ending processor ache that was paperwork. In that moment, distraction bounded its way into his office quite literally. 

“Jazz,” he said with a small smile, setting down the pad he’d been holding. 

“Sup, Bossmech. How’s it hanging?” Jazz chirped.

“Ready for a break from all of this,” he gestured to his desk, “Please tell me you’ve come to steal me away from it.”

“Depends. I’ve got some intel on a mech that you put a high priority tag on a good while ago, but we’re not sure you want us to continue with extraction or not since it’s been a dormant case for so long.” 

Optimus felt his optic ridges rise. It wasn’t often he put out high priority tags on anyone and he couldn’t think of any that had been made more than a vorn ago…

“Who’s the mech?” he asked absently.

“Someone named Prowl?”

Optimus felt his spark lurch at the sound of that designation. His processor thrust him backwards in time, to meeting a terrified youngling lashing out in anger because he thought that was his only option. To holding his pain wracked frame after he’d been forced into an adult body far before his time and whispering for him to hold onto any memory he could manage. 

“Find him,” he breathed. 

Jazz paused, having been cut off mid sentence by Optimus, “Huh?”

“Find him, Jazz. Please. If you can, bring him to me.”

Jazz gave him a long, hard look before snagging the chair in front of Optimus’ desk that was used for guests with his pede and lowering himself down into it. 

“Alright, Bossmech. But I’m going to need a bit more info on this mech. What should I expect?”

Optimus sighed, and quickly collected the datapads before depositing them in one of his desk drawers. Finally, he pressed a small button on his console and Jazz’ helm tipped as the door locked behind them and the room's soundproofing was activated. 

Jazz had not been a part of his inner circle for long, but he had done an admiral job of proving himself thus far. He blended in well with Optimus’ teams and his skills were a testament, not to mention he was always able to cheer them up. Optimus thought back to when he’d first met Jazz, who at the time had not been aware that he had entered the officers common room, and had been in the middle of telling the single filthiest joke Optimus had ever heard in his life. When the saboteur had turned to see who was laughing and Optimus swore he watched the color drain from the poor mech’s entire frame.

While very young to be in the field he was in, Jazz was the best at what he did, be it finding a mech or making sure a mech was never found again. Optimus brought his console to life and entered in the code to access the top security files he and the others from his team had compiled on Prowl eight vorn ago. There was only one picture, a quick snapshot from before Prowl had been changed that Ironhide of all mecha had brought forward. It had warmed Optimus’ spark. For all his adoptive sire’s bluster about despising the youngling, he had been one of the most driven to get him back. 

“This is Prowl, though he no longer looks like this. I should also note that it is highly unlikely that he remembers us.”

“Remembers you? You know this mechling personally?”

“That… is a long story.”

Jazz leaned back with a smile, “Well, I already commed my mecha to start following the lead, but it’ll be a while before they come back with anything. I got time, my mech.”

*****

Prowl lay beneath his berth, trying to keep his gasping ventilations quiet so as not to draw the attention of his keeper. His body felt as though it was aflame, though this time his wings had suffered the worst by far. Cloak had taken over roughly halfway through the beating and dulled his pain sensors. Eventually, it had ended with Cloak forcing him into stasis. Prowl woke to Cloak’s whispered reassurances in his own mind and managed to drag himself beneath his berth. It wasn’t safe from his master should the mech decide to come back and continue where he left off, but it was close and made him feel better. 

He’d been told that Praxians didn’t like close spaces because of their wings, but Prowl had never felt more comfortable than when he was tucked into the corner with his arms around himself.

The deep gouges running across his wings scrambled any sort of readings or scans, and thinking back, he suspected this was why he didn’t realize what was happening until he could actually  _ hear  _ it with his audials. Rumbles echoed across the room and he flinched as one particularly loud one shook the table and knocked the cube of energon off of it. That was supposed to be his meal for the orn…

Then his world exploded as the wall caved in in a flash of metal and fire.

  
  



End file.
